


The Serpent of Soho

by LeilaKalomi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Heaven is Terrible (Good Omens), Horny Aziraphale (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene: Before the Ritz, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Scene: The Ritz (Good Omens), Smut, Snake Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeilaKalomi/pseuds/LeilaKalomi
Summary: Crowley is surprised when Aziraphale wants things between them to move very fast after the apocalypse doesn't happen. But Heaven isn't done with Aziraphale yet.“There’s really no reason to prolong this,” Gabriel said. “It’s unpleasant for all of us. Aziraphale, we may not be able to destroy you, but we can teach you a lesson. If you lie down with serpents, you will get up with scales.”“And I don’t think there’s any doubt about the lying down with serpents,” Uriel added.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 238
Collections: Get A Wiggle On Zine





	The Serpent of Soho

**Author's Note:**

> My offering for the NSFW edition of the Get a Wiggle On zine.

Crowley had somehow pictured a long courtship. He’d thought Aziraphale might feel like he was rushing things. He wasn’t expecting Aziraphale to stop him before they even got out of the park. He brushed against Aziraphale, and Aziraphale grabbed his arm, stopping them. Crowley stopped and leaned forward, starting to ask what Aziraphale was doing, but Aziraphale’s gaze darted away, then back at him. Then suddenly, he tipped his head up and pressed a light kiss to Crowley’s cheek before looking away again shyly.

“Oh, no,” Crowley said, grinning. “Not like that.” He kissed Aziraphale’s lips. But Aziraphale was the one to make it a proper kiss.

When they arrived at the Ritz, Aziraphale was the one to tug him upstairs to a room before they’d even set foot in the dining room.

“You haven’t even seen your bookshop,” Crowley said, incredulous.

“I can see my bookshop _after_ ,” Aziraphale said.

 _After_ , Crowley thought. _Fuck._ Aziraphale let Crowley kiss his neck until he was gasping, grinding his thigh insistently between Crowley’s. Aziraphale pulled back and sank to his knees.

“Crowley?” he said. His voice wasn’t hesitant, but determined. A warning, a _Stop me if you don’t want this_.

“Yes, angel. Please.”

Aziraphale smiled the same smile he used when he’d been a proper bastard, and eased down Crowley’s zipper, freeing his straining cock. Crowley gasped and fell back against the wall as Aziraphale grasped him, swiped his tongue over the tip of his cock, then took it into his mouth.

* * *

_After_ , they had their dinner, then ignored the room Aziraphale had booked in favor of walking slowly back to the bookshop, hand-in-hand and dreamy. It was a lot to deal with. Crowley kept looking down at Aziraphale’s hand in his. That hand that had wrapped around him with such care and precision. He could think of still more things he’d like to do with that hand, and with other parts of Aziraphale, which he still hadn’t seen.

Aziraphale wandered around the shop for a bit, taking in all the new things, checking that all the old things were in place. As soon as Crowley was sure he was satisfied with things, he pushed Aziraphale against the wall and tugged at his waistcoat, then bowtie.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, as Crowley eased open his collar and bit gently at his clavicle.

Crowley eased the shirt open further, finding an undershirt beneath, and sighing.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale tried again. “Perhaps we might find things a bit more comfortable upstairs.”

* * *

Upstairs, and finally divested of his substantial wardrobe, Aziraphale lay on his bed, cock already hard against his belly.

“Now you,” Aziraphale said, primly.

“What?”

“You. Darling, I want to see all of you.”

Crowley snapped his fingers to remove everything and launched himself at the bed. Aziraphale laughed until Crowley kissed the underside of Aziraphale’s cock. Then he gasped and spread his legs beneath Crowley so that it was clear what he wanted. Crowley drew back and pushed Aziraphale’s legs apart, bending one knee up so he could finger him open. He went slowly, one miracle-slick finger at first, then two, then three. Aziraphale gasped and arched his back. He looked so free, so lost to all control.

It wasn’t as if the two of them had invented what they were doing, but somehow, as Crowley imagined pushing into Aziraphale, the two of them gaining pleasure at the same time, he felt that he’d had a stroke of genius.

“Aziraphale, can I—” Crowley could barely speak. He reached for his cock and looked at his fingers buried inside of Aziraphale.

“Please do,” Aziraphale said. Crowley removed his fingers and slid in easily, making Aziraphale moan and gasp. Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s cock and began to stroke the velvety skin as he moved his hips. Aziraphale pressed his fingers into Crowley’s buttocks, cupping him, holding him, spurring him on. When he came, his body clenched around Crowley’s cock, and Crowley shouted as he lost vision, the world going all white and glowing. When he opened his eyes, his hips were still moving in Aziraphale’s hands.

“Ahh,” he said, vaguely shocked to find the world still there, Aziraphale still there. Aziraphale gave him a lazy smile. His face was pink and sated. Crowley grabbed his own cock and eased out of him, flopping over beside him on the bed. It was too small for them to do anything but cuddle, but that was all right. Aziraphale pulled him close, and they slept.

* * *

Aziraphale didn’t often sleep, but he felt that on this occasion, he deserved it. It had, after all, been over a week of the most stressful and exerting days of his existence, and then there had been _sex_. Which did, on its own, have certain _effects_ on the physiology of his human form.

When he awoke—pleasantly restored, if slightly sore—he found himself alone. He looked around, slightly miffed, and heading for full panic when he realized Crowley’s clothes and glasses were gone. Then he saw the note on the nightstand.

_Went for danishes from that place you like. Back soon._

He sighed with relief and gratefulness and stood up. He was naked. He wasn’t used to that at all.

He went into the bathroom and looked himself over. It had been a while since he’d looked at his own body, and now, as he did, he imagined Crowley touching him. The kisses to his neck and chest, the gentle but firm hold on his ample thighs. His mouth around the tip of his cock. The way he’d felt _inside_ of Aziraphale. He wondered what Crowley would feel like inside. Perhaps they might investigate when he returned from the bakery.

He felt a presence in his bedroom and rubbed his hands together happily as he exited the bathroom. Then, he took two quick steps backward and faltered, hands floundering. Uriel, Gabriel, and a third angel Aziraphale did not recognize were standing in front of the bed. Gabriel held Crowley’s note between two fingers as if it were unsanitary.

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said. All three angels’ eyes swept over him disapprovingly.

“It was only a matter of time,” Uriel said.

“Time no one was supposed to have,” Gabriel added.

The third angel was quiet.

“H—Hello,” Aziraphale began, trying to sound professional and angelic, both of which were somewhat undermined by his nudity and by the state of the room, with his clothing strewn about.

“The _smell_ in here,” Uriel said. “Evil.”

“There’s really no reason to prolong this,” Gabriel said. “It’s unpleasant for all of us. Aziraphale, we may not be able to destroy you, but we can teach you a lesson. If you lie down with serpents, you will get up with scales.”

“And I don’t think there’s any doubt about the lying down with serpents,” Uriel added.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale said. “What—”

The third angel snapped his fingers. Aziraphale could not move. He was looking up at them now, up at everything, really: the walls, the nightstand, the furniture. Gabriel gave a great, heaving laugh. It almost sounded forced. Uriel wore a grim, satisfied look. And then all three angels were gone.

Aziraphale tried again to move. His limbs did not seem to work, so he stopped trying to move them and found that he could, in fact, slide along quite quickly. He knew now what they had done, but still found himself seized by a rather morbid desire to see the damage before he panicked. He made his way up the side of the bathroom wall, over the ridge of the sink.

Ah, yes, there it was. There _he_ was: a small, yellowish snake. Cream, really, with a gold pattern across his scales. He tried to close his eyes against the sight, but they remained open.

Crowley had never touched this body, he thought, and all of a sudden, he was wracked with a grief he could not figure out how to express. He could not cry, after all. He couldn’t bear for Crowley to see him this way. Not when as long as Aziraphale had known him, Crowley had struggled to keep all reminders of his history as a serpent out of sight.

He slithered down the stairs and hid behind a bookshelf.

* * *

Crowley set the box of danishes and croissants down on the desk in Aziraphale’s back room and started up to the flat. Then he doubled back for the box, thinking it might be more fun to surprise the angel with breakfast in bed. It was completely silent in the shop, so Aziraphale was probably still sleeping. Aziraphale loved luxury. Perhaps once he’d gotten a taste of sleep he’d been insatiable.

But the bedroom was empty. The tiny bathroom also empty.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley called. Nothing. Crowley turned around and went back into the bedroom, spying the note he’d left crumpled on the floor. Oh, no. Was Aziraphale upset with him for some reason? “Got you croissants too!” Crowley tried. “Angel?”

He ran back down the stairs, walked up and down all the aisles. He was starting to lose his breath. This could not be happening again. There wasn’t even any fire!

“Where are you?” Crowley called. He ran his hands through his hair a few times, taking a gasping breath. “ _Angel!_ ”

Crowley sank to the floor, knocking off his glasses as he covered his eyes with his hands. _Please_ , he said to whoever was listening. _Please don’t do this. Not him. Not now. Please._

 _OK, OK,_ Crowley thought. He could find him, if he was here. He just needed to concentrate. He breathed, reached. And then he found the thread of him, something fluttering, ethereal. He _was_ here, somewhere. But how? Hadn’t Crowley looked everywhere?

“Aziraphale, I know you’re in here. If you want me to go, you don’t have to hide. You can just ask.”

Crowley stood up, moving toward the angel, toward where he felt him. There was something _different_ about him, but it was definitely him. Crowley was sure.

“I’ll find you,” he said.

But before he could start, a small, gold snake slid along the aisle toward Crowley.

Crowley’s stomach clenched. _No_ , he thought. _No, no, how could I have done this to him?_ He felt his eyes well up and overflow.

“Fuck,” he said.

* * *

Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley to grieve him. He’d realized by now that Crowley had been in the shop that day, that he, Aziraphale, was the best friend Crowley had thought he’d lost. He’d forgotten all about that when he’d hidden from him. Nothing was worth reminding him of that trauma. He slithered slowly toward him, frightened but determined to spare him at least that particular pain. Then Crowley looked at him, and his face crumpled. More than that even, his face clenched in a kind of sneer. He blanched and shook his head and withdrew.

“Fuck,” he said.

Aziraphale stopped. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps this was worse. Perhaps—but then Crowley dropped back to the floor and scooped him up. His hands felt warm. His gaze was frightened and sad, but tender. Aziraphale looped his body around Crowley’s hands in what he hoped was an affectionate gesture.

“I’m so sorry, angel. I’m so sorry. Is it because...is it...is it because we?”

Aziraphale hissed. He didn’t know how Crowley had managed anything like speech back in the garden. Perhaps he just hadn’t got the hang of it yet.

Crowley stroked him gently, then sat back against the bookshelf, still cradling him in his hands. Aziraphale butted his head against them, coiling around his wrist.

Crowley let out a long, shaky sigh and pressed Aziraphale gently to his chest. “You’re not mad at me,” he said. “You should be mad at me. I should have known it would hurt you. I didn’t though. Didn’t know.”

Aziraphale tried to speak then. He really did, but it was still just a long hiss. So he licked Crowley’s neck instead, and Crowley stared at him, his eyes fully yellow. Then he pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s scales.

“Love you,” he whispered. “Love you so much, angel. Maybe we can...can be snakes together? Yeah? I can—can take care of things. Keep things how you like.” He looked at Aziraphale hopefully.

Aziraphale rested his head against Crowley’s neck and let the warm hand slide across his scales over and over again. His shoulder ached, his feet tingled.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley exclaimed. Aziraphale pushed back onto his hands, looking at Crowley.

“Oh, thank _God_ ,” he said. He held up one hand, then the other. He was still quite naked, but his form looked human again.

“What the _heaven_ was that?”

“Well, as you say. Heaven, I’m afraid. Some nonsense about punishing me for...well, I suspect they thought it was cosmic justice. Since I’ve taken the Serpent of Eden as a lover and all that. A suitable punishment.”

Crowley’s lips moved, but he didn’t speak.

“Your tongue’s split,” he said. “And your eyes. Blue all the way.”

“Oh, dear,” Aziraphale said. “We can’t _both_ wear sunglasses.”

He snapped his fingers for his clothes and a mirror, then picked up the latter.

“Round pupils,” he said. He gave Crowley a wan smile. He felt something in his mouth shift, and when he stuck out his tongue again, it was whole.

Crowley kissed him. “I bet it’s like it is for me,” Crowley said. “I bet you can shift back and forth. Get nervous or worked up, go all snaky. Might take some practice, but for my money, it’ll be all right.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley. “Worked up, you say?”

“Practice,” Crowley repeated, grinning. He leaned over Aziraphale, grinding his hips into the angel’s, pinning him in place.

“And worst-case scenario—” Aziraphale slid a hand under Crowley’s arse.

“We’ll _both_ get snaky,” Crowley said, rolling his hips. He bit Aziraphale lightly under the neck. “Got twice the options now.”

“A _very_ fitting punishment, then,” Aziraphale gasped.

“I’ve always thought heaven had a weird sense of justice,” Crowley said.


End file.
